Don't Let Me Go
by Lynyrd Lionheart
Summary: Post 4x16. Emma leaves the loft, because she can't stay with her parents in the wake of new revelations. Her walk takes her to the docks, and the Jolly Roger.


**AN: Because after that ep, I can't see Emma really wanting to stay with her parents. So I wrote a fic about where she would go! Title from the Raign song of the same name, because it's pretty much perfect for CS and Emma's current arc.**

**Don't Let Me Go**

When she tells Henry that she can't stay in the loft, right now, he nods with understanding and gives her a kiss on the cheek. Emma is mad, but she's not so far gone that she can't be practical. Mary Margaret and David are Henry's grandparents, and for all that they're apparently liars, she knows that they'll protect Henry with their lives. So when she packs a bag and walks out the door, she knows that her son will be safe, even if her relationship with her parents isn't.

"Emma-" Mary Margaret says behind her, but Emma is so beyond caring what her mother has to say right now. She doesn't know who she's more disappointed in – them, or herself. She had been so… _determined_, to see the best in the ones she loved, that she totally ignored her instincts. She knows better. Her instincts kept her alive and safe for twenty-eight years alone. Yet she wanted so _badly_ to believe in heroes.

Instead she got disappointed.

And out there, somewhere, a child feels that same abandonment she grew up with, because her parents were so sure _she_ would turn out to be evil.

It makes her sick

It makes her want to cry.

So she ignores her mother, vision clouded with tears, and all but runs away, down the steps, and out the door.

Her original plan was Granny's. But she knows what will happen if she goes there. First it will be the questions – from Granny and Ruby and the dwarves – and then Leroy will tell the whole damn town she's not in the loft anymore, and then everyone will try to mend the rift, and it will get to the point where Emma just wants to leave. But she doesn't know where else to go. So she wanders. Her bag is pretty light, just filled with the necessities, and she can carry it for a while before she'll need to find a place to sleep.

It surprises her, how much it _doesn't_ surprise her, when her walk takes her to the docks. She hesitates, because she can see the Jolly Roger, taller and prouder of any of the other ships. She knows that Killian has moved his belongings from his room at Granny's back to his ship. But she's not sure if she should go –

She's already walking up the gangplank, because while her mind isn't sure what she should do, the rest of her – her heart, her body – already yearns for him. When he holds her, everything seems a little brighter. She can forget that she's the savior whose parents sacrificed another child to guarantee her morality. No, with Killian Jones she is simply Emma Swan, and right now she needs to be simply Emma Swan.

"Lass," he says, coming up from below decks. He must have heard her foot steps and come out to investigate. Emma doesn't say anything; she just drops her bag and is in his arms in three quick strides, pulling him into a tight hug. She feels him freeze for a second when she buries her face in his neck, but it doesn't take him long to return the embrace, and she feels him rest his cheek on top of her head.

"I was going to Granny's," she told him, closing her eyes, because the tears she'd been holding back have started to fall, trailing down her cheeks and onto the leather of his coat. "I just… I can't stay in the loft. Not right now. And I was going to Granny's, but then I came here instead."

"You're always welcome with me, Swan. You know that," he replies, his voice causing his chest to rumble pleasantly, and lets his words wash over her, relaxing muscles she hadn't even realized were tense. She loves to listen to him talk, has since the very beginning, and she thinks it might be one of her favorite things about being with him – that she can let herself enjoy just _listening _to him.

Well, that and the way he knows her so well. It had annoyed her in the beginning, on the bean stalk when he had read her so well, yet she hadn't been sure about him. Because her mind was telling her one thing, that he shouldn't be trusted, while her instincts were screaming at her to let him in.

Another time she had ignored those instincts… though she's still not sure that he was completely trustworthy at the time. Not like he is now. Now, when she relies on his ability to know what she needs, what she's thinking. It comforts her, and she holds him a little tighter.

"Just for a bit," she tells him, pulling back so she can look up into his eyes, another thing she loves about him – those incredibly blue eyes. He holds her hand, and she takes comfort from that remaining point of contact. "Just until I can be there again. That's all I need."

"Emma," he says, his voice soft, and she closes her eyes again to savour the sound of the two syllables of her name in his accent. "You know you can come here, can stay with me, whenever and for however long you want."

She nods her head, because she does know that, but can't say the words. If she says anything right now, she'll cry. And if she starts to cry, she's not sure she'll stop.

She's so freaking _tired_.

He releases her hand and her eyes snap open, but he's just moved by her to pick up her bag with his hook. Seeing her eyes on him, he gives her a smile, though his eyes are sad and she knows that he hates seeing her upset. But when he wraps an arm around her waist and she rests her head on his shoulder, she feels more at peace than she has…

Since this whole damn thing with the Queens of Darkness started.

"The author got away," she tells him, because it's important, something he should know, even if it's the last thing she really wants to think about right now. Another time when she ignored her instincts, instincts that had been telling her to be careful, because that's what her parents were telling her – and like some stupid teenager, all she wanted was to rebel against them. So she ignored her better judgement, and now the Author is free in a town where he's the most wanted commodity around.

"The Author?" Killian pauses and Emma looks up to see him looking down at her. "He was released? When?"

"God, yeah" – Emma runs a hand down her face – "when I went to check on August, I unlocked the door. Apparently Mary Margaret and David know him, and he made a run for it. Now… he's out there."

"We'll need to find him," Killian muses, and Emma feels exhaustion weigh down on her, but he's right, of course. She can't just forget her duty – she's still the savior, after all – and of course they need to to find the author. "But not right now. You're dead on your feet, Swan."

"I'll be fine. You're right, we need – what are you doing?"

Emma's eyes widen in surprise when she finds herself hefted into Killian's arms. He adjusts his hook under her knees, careful that it doesn't catch her skin, and begins to walk towards the steps to the ship's underbelly.

"You're run off your feet, Swan. Savior or not, you need sleep."

"I have legs."

"I know," he replies with a wicked grin that makes a flirtatious one of her own flirt with her lips, because Killian makes her flirt like no man has in… well, years. "But I rather like this. Means I have your undivided attention."

He lets her down at the top of the steps and lets her take them herself, because hands are thing you need with how steep they are.

"Well then," he says when they're in his cabin. "The bed is there. I'll just use Sm-"

"Stay."

She grabs his hand, knowing that he's about to say he'll sleep in other quarters, but that's not what she wants. If she wanted to sleep alone, she would have gotten that room at Granny's. There will still be gossip, when people realize where she's rooming, so that's not why she chose the Jolly. No, it was because she didn't want to be alone.

Still doesn't want to be alone.

"Swan-"

She cuts him off with her lips, and he's never been one to resist her kisses. Her bag falls to the floor once more with a thud, and he wraps his hooked arm around her waist, pulling her in closer, while his hand comes up to the base of her neck. She loves the way he kisses her, like it could be their last and he wants to leave his memory imprinted on her. It will work, should any of them end up being the last. He'll forever be imprinted on her – heart, her lips, her memory – and just the thought of never getting to kiss him again makes desperation rise in her kiss. They had come close, not that long ago, when Gold had held his heart in his hand. And again, when Ursula had told her that Killian was dead… she'd stayed strong, to get them out of that mess, but if it had turned out to be true?

The relief she had felt, when Killian and sauntered into that cabin, cocky as ever and saying he was tough to kill – Emma doesn't think she'll ever forget that feeling. In that moment, she had sent up a silent prayer of thanks, and she wasn't exactly the praying type.

If he died, she would survive. But she wouldn't be the same. A part of her would die with him, and that was terrifying for someone that had spent most of her life hidden behind walls so thick, so she would never get hurt.

"Lass, lass what's wrong?" he asked, pulling back from her. He kept his arm wrapped around her, but his hand moved to cup her cheek.

"I just… I just…"

And she buries her face in his coat, tears falling, her shoulders shaking with sobs. He strokes her hair and simply holds her, letting her cry. Cry because her parents had lied to her, and part of her had childishly believed that they could do no wrong, only to be disappointed when they turned out to be as flawed and human as everyone else. And she cries because she had nearly lost Killian, just when she was beginning to realize his importance to her.

She cries for the scared, abandoned girl she had been, and the scared abandoned child of Maleficent's.

"I'm sorry," she says thickly, when her tears finally cease. "I'm not sure where that came from-"

"Never apologize for needing comfort, Swan," Killian says, tipping her chin up so she met his gaze. He wipes her tears away with his thumb and leans in to kiss her forehead. "You may be the savior, but you're still human. Don't apologize for that."

"You'll stay with me then?" she asks, grabbing his hand and pressing it to her cheek, closing her eyes so she can enjoy the warmth of his skin on her face. "I don't want to be alone. I want you with me."

He let her lead him to the bed, and he took up position along the wall, letting her curl into him and wrap his hooked arm around her. She settled herself into him, trying to soak up as much of him and his warmth as she could. She felt him nuzzle the back of head, resting his cheek against her hair. She closes her eyes, feeling secure in his arms. Just having him there with her makes her feel more at peace than she has all day.

In the morning, she'll have to face her parents again. She'll have to hunt down the author, racing against Gold and his pet witches.

But for now, she relaxes into his body, and thinks that for all that she's wondered if Storybrooke is actually where she belongs since her parents told her the truth, when she's in Killian's arms, she feels like she's come home.

And that's enough until morning.

**AN: There you are. Minimal angst, really. Yeah, some Emma angst from her parents… but CS is happy in this? Because I loved the little moments between them tonight, and how much she's coming to rely on him. It's all so beautiful for our ship.**


End file.
